


Near the Dragon's Eyes

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Auror Partners, Aurors, Caring, Did I Mention, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I start all my Dramione fics with that tag, I'm under the word limit and over the blood alcohol limit, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Hermione Granger, Porn With Plot, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rutting, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also i wanted to give this dramione b99 vibes so... Romantic stakeout anyone?, and all together, because this is ABO and, but if you have questions just ask, but im not mentioning it, definitely not slowburn though, his alpha angsting is so classic, i did my best to explain how the cycles work, i guess?, incredibly sweet and soft, is my fave Draco, lets be real, liberal implied use of the birth control charm, literally these two being, loving, this has inspired me to write more, was a tough choice but it felt right, wine is my magic make the writing go juice, yeaaah it got real tropey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 16:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: Written for the DFW Tropefest 2019 prompt #12 A/B/OoOoLate bloomer. That’s what they called her, adding yet another title to follow her other asinine monikers.With magic as strong as hers how could she possibly be anything else?What a joke.oOoOf course, she took it all in stride; pushed herself harder, striving and struggling to make herself worth more than her lack of Alpha, Beta or Omega designation. But even the abject awe or generalised jealousy she inspired didn’t prevent the surreptitious glances or whispers behind hands about the girl who simply 'wasn’t witch enough.'





	1. A Prologue of Sorts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this fic is literally my *rocks up twenty minutes late with Starbucks* moment :D
> 
> Between rehearsals for my local theatre's production of Jesus Christ Superstar, work, a nasty virus thingy and life in general; I forgot that this would not write itself- oops 
> 
> However, that being said, *insert big sigh of relief here* I finished it, made an aesthetic, explained what ABO meant to my mum/beta (not a conversation I ever want to have again), gave her the non-smutty bits to fix... Aaaand here we are :) 
> 
> I truly hope you enjoy this, it is my first 'official' foray into ABO so I'm super excited to see what you all think <3
> 
> xo Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we go...

Late bloomer. That’s what they called her, adding yet another title to follow her other asinine monikers.

With magic as strong as hers how could she possibly be anything else?

What a joke.

An idiom once intended to comfort became an endless echoing taunt. It went unsaid that people really meant deficient, lacking, faulty… More like ‘never-bloomer’ (okay, so that wasn’t exactly her best, but it still got her point across)

Year after year, Hermione continued to hold out hope that the increased magic on this equinox or that solstice, some magical event or other might trigger her dormant genes; she waited for her presentation with a sick sense of anticipation and dread until ‘late bloomer’ became nothing more than a harsh, wounding insult.

Of course, she took it all in stride; pushed herself harder, striving and struggling to make herself worth more than her lack of designation. But even the abject awe or generalised jealousy she inspired didn’t prevent the surreptitious glances or whispers behind hands about the girl who simply wasn’t witch enough to… to…

Who the fuck decided it was so important anyway?

Probably purebloods whose opinions she didn’t care much for, that’s who.

It wasn’t like she had signed up for extra biology when she discovered she was a witch. It surprised her no one mentioned it sooner, though perhaps that was due to a distinct lack of sex education (short of how to perform a certain, helpful charm) and stuffy, English, wizarding society.

In fact, she hadn’t even known designations were a thing until Lavender received a weeklong homework dispensation, from a strangely accommodating Professor Snape, after being excused in the middle of a potions lesson for a little fever. Thankfully, at the tender age of twelve, Ron had been there to awkwardly explain what the whispers that followed meant, along with the ‘ins and outs’ of alpha, beta and omega dynamics to both herself and an equally clueless, muggle raised Harry.

Naturally, she had been annoyed at the time, lacking such crucial knowledge. However, that irritation had quickly turned to something else.

Students succumbed almost constantly after Lavender; it seemed every little increase in magic, elemental, cosmic or otherwise produced a new batch of newly presented pupils.

Ron presented as a beta after a solar eclipse in fourth year. He still suffered a small fever and a sudden growth spurt, but Madam Pomfrey had assured him it was insufficient to qualify him as an alpha with no additional evidence of typical physiological changes. Naturally, this had left him in quite the lingering, foul mood, but eventually Lavender helped him get over it.

Harry got his fever in fifth year, under Leo. According to Sirius and Remus, his father and grandfather had both been triggered by the same alignment, apparently, ancestry and genetics played some part in which magical event sparked the change adolescent witches and wizards.

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at that particular ‘coincidence’; but oh, what she wouldn’t give to have such assurance in her own lineage once it became clear she was the odd witch out. In short, she was more than a little jealous of them (with only a few exceptions)

Harry’s presentation had been much more severe in comparison, outing him as an alpha (like his parents) to the student body as soon as he was able to leave the hospital wing. Though they had all fretted over him like nervous mother hens, once the fever had passed, it had been incredibly amusing to see him squeeze into robes that had been two sizes too big for him a week earlier.

And so, it continued… Alphas, betas and a few omegas popped up left right and centre until suddenly at the start of seventh year she was the only ‘normal’ one left in her grade.

For a time, Hermione wondered if she’d presented as a beta and somehow missed the signs.

But after a week of heavy research to her dismay, she found that couldn’t possibly be the case.

With all their heightened senses it wasn’t long before news got around that she was ‘deficient’. Merlin help her, not even a bloody war could stop the whispers and frankly once it was over, they only seemed to get worse the more her fame grew, until finally, she found a haven, a place the likes of Rita Skeeter and their thoughts couldn’t touch her; The Auror Academy.

Because when you’re training to apprehend dark wizards, its skill, _not_ designation that matters.

Three years on, Hermione adored her job at the Ministry. It was everything she had ever wanted; the perfect mix of academia and adrenaline rush, with decent pay to boot… Or rather to _pay_ for boots.

Becoming an auror hadn’t been her first choice; but in the wake of the war, her time on the run, helping to defeat Voldemort and returning to ordinary school life to complete her education; she realised life as a desk jockey simply wasn’t what she wanted anymore. For one thing, it would never satisfy her newfound need for adventure, nor her craving for swift justice on behalf of those who had been wronged.

At least in the DMLE, she received the best of both worlds; solving the most challenging cases, filling out and filing the correct paperwork and making a more immediate difference hunting down all kinds of criminals, from death eaters to petty thieves. It was all in a day’s work and she absolutely lived for it.

Sure, there were things she wanted to change, laws she wanted to write and enact, but if she had learned anything from her subtle observations and interactions with past and present leadership, power in politics had to be earned. In short, she had to pay her dues the old-fashioned way and being one-third of the golden trio (despite its sway) wasn’t going to cut it.

Indeed, the time for binding herself to a desk for the daily slog of lawmaking would come later, when it suited _her_; perhaps once she could no longer keep up with the new recruits? But then again… Professor McGonagall was just as formidable at her current age, so what was the point in setting herself an unnecessary limit?

And how could she forget the fact her lack of presentation finally had a quantifiable benefit? Without a designation dictating her status and instinctual treatment, she was more than able to carve out a respectable place in the ‘law enforcement alphas club’, bonding with them in a way most omegas and betas in the department could not. They treated her like one of their own based on her merits and personality traits, something she would have killed for in her final years at Hogwarts; and on the rare occasion the subject came up, her colleagues were more likely to remind her of the positives, by way of voicing their own complaints about their experiences, than stare at her with pity or unwarranted sympathy.

But of course, the moment anything could be considered perfect, something would come along to ruin it; or rather, someone… And that particular someone had a stupid, ridiculous name and an even stupider, smirky, hot, gorgeous face... Ugh, and those broad shoulders, she just wanted to-

Wait! She meant hot, gor-

“Grrr!”

MERLIN’S SAGGY BALLS!!!

That fucking _ferret face_ messed with her brain somehow!


	2. Meteor Metaphors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting somewhere... muahahaha
> 
> But really I'm just building up to smut :P
> 
> Also for reference, the meteor shower I'm talking about here is the [Draconid Meteor Shower](https://earthsky.org/astronomy-essentials/everything-you-need-to-know-draconid-meteor-shower) which occurs annually from the 6th-10th of October with its peak usually taking place on the 8th (which FYI is the exact, magical- haha get it- date Draco and Hermione present on).

Draco Malfoy was the destructive equivalent of a meteor strike to her organised, structured little life.

She had been completely unsuspecting like she imagined the dinosaurs had been when they met their demise. Having taken a rare, late lunch with Harry, Ron and Seamus; it naturally came as quite the shock to find him seated at the desk across from hers, as though he’d always been there and simply managed to miraculously escape her notice.

The poisonous glare she had reserved for him so many years ago instinctively settled across her features.

“Alright there, Granger?”

“W-what?”

“I said, are you alright there, Granger? Your eye is doing that little twitchy thing it used to and honestly, you look like you’re either going to pass out or have a conniption; are you feeling lightheaded at all? Maybe you ought to sit down before this becomes an impromptu trust fall, which would be impossible considering… You know…” He gestured awkwardly at her, ignorant to her surprise “…We don’t trust each other.”

Holding back a smile at his light humour was not what she expected to come from this conversation at all. This was _Malfoy_, git extraordinaire, she did not _smile_ at him. But something deep inside her desperately wanted to; she couldn’t help staring blankly at him while she attempted to collect her thoughts.

“What? What did I say?”

“Why are you being nice to me?” She blurted unceremoniously, unable to comprehend engaging in any kind of polite conversation with him.

At least he had the decency to look contrite, a rare sight for someone that exemplified Slytherin and alpha characteristics so exquisitely; his gaze almost immediately shifted to his gleaming dragonhide boots.

“Would you prefer I behave as abhorrently as I did when we were children?”

She looked at him blankly, her mouth working to form a reply.

“I uh -I suppose not…”

He looked at her curiously, the beginning of a smirk or a smile playing at the corner of his plush mouth…

Did she really just think that? Geez, she needed to get a grip! Honestly, what was wrong with her?

“You _suppose_? I mean, if you’d like I’d be happy to cast a densaugeo your way, it’d be just like old times, right?”

And there was that trademark smirk, back to haunt her. It escaped her notice that his eyes were soft and gentle, perhaps even a little sad, certainly lacking their old, scathing vitriol.

“Why you little-!”

He held up his hands defensively, hoping to placate her.

“Hey, I was only kidding; We’re on the same side here Hermione-”

Circe help her, he wasn’t joking; his senior auror badge was peeking out from under his lapel, making his statement more literal than she had cared to consider a moment ago. Some small part of her had hoped he was simply there to report a crime, that maybe some brazen fool had stolen an heirloom jewel or something equally as trivial… But alas, he wasn’t even a rookie, and the only thing stolen was the extra space the perpetually empty desk across from hers used to provide.

“-Look, I understand my being here is upsetting and probably more than a little shocking for you; I’ve just transferred home after a two-year undercover operation with the French bureau and I guess Robards wasn’t told partnering us up was the worst idea anyone’s had since… Well, since this really; damn it, you get my point! _But_ despite our past and any rightful grudges you may hold against me, I intend to follow orders and do my job, which means sitting here working cases with you, and watching your back when you need it. Do you have any objections, _partner_?”

“B-buh, I don’t… Ugh-” She sighed defeatedly, pinching the bridge of her nose “-No I can’t say that I do.”

“Great, well then I guess we’re stuck with each other.”

He stuck his hand out to shake with a smile so disarming and radiant it should be illegal. No wonder Witch Weekly kept calling him ‘Britain’s most eligible alpha’.

Still, she found it disconcerting coming face to face with this new and improved Draco; one that called her by her name, didn’t sneer at her, or make condescending remarks and was undeniably scrumptious to look at. Seriously when had that happened?

Her inner voice immediately confirmed what she herself didn’t want to admit; underneath all that hatred and prejudice he preached in their youth; he’d always been impeccably handsome.

She hesitantly took her seat, unable to tear her eyes away (except when he looked back with that intense silvery-grey gaze). After staring at him shamelessly most of the day, it was a miracle she managed to get any paperwork done and even then, she could barely stand to apply herself when there was a tantalisingly juicy mystery sitting right in front of her.

Suddenly, she had a million and one burning questions about him. It frustrated her that she no longer knew her enemy if she could even still consider him that; frankly, she had encountered wizards that viewed and treated her much worse than Draco ever had.

There was also the not so small issue of the life debt she owed him; her memories of Malfoy manor were often overshadowed by the time she spent with his aunt, but occasionally her mind would replay the moment he lied to protect them, her most of all. Even though it hadn’t been enough to save her from Bellatrix, he had tried, despite his blood, his family, the dark mark on his arm that touted his beliefs for all to see… That was what mattered in the end.

Since then it seemed he had completely turned his life around, but seeing him now made her curious; how had he done it? Why? Why become an auror? And why bother to make amends with her? He could have just gone to Robards and begged for another partner, or pretended she didn’t exist… But he decided to stick with her and put in the effort? What purpose did that serve?

She sighed for the hundredth time since he waltzed in, resting her cheek on her palm with a far off look.

Had she always liked the fact he was an enigma?

Three months passed in the blink of an eye, he did his best to stay out of her way and simultaneously picked up the slack her former partner left behind after he transferred out of the DMLE. It amazed her that he was so willing to let her take the lead, it had to be against every alpha instinct he had, and yet he never once complained or grumbled about the status quo; he took it all in stride until finally, Hermione had enough.

Unfortunately, the straw, or rather the meteor that broke her, happened to fall at the worst possible time.

“Draco, I’ve forgiven you for a lot, but bringing _that_ into my car on a stakeout is just… Just Disrespectful. No spell on earth will ever get the smell out!”

“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic Hermione; it’s just gyros and a little souvlaki. It’s not the end of the world-”

He shoved a matching blue and white takeaway bag into her lap and gestured for her to dig in, before taking a large bite accompanied by a satisfied moan that sent involuntary goosebumps running down her spine. Bloody hell she needed help.

“-Besides, the Draconids start falling tonight, if I don’t eat something with my suppressant potion at least half an hour before, I’ll be nauseous all night and that could definitely have a less than savoury ending for both your upholstery and our case, don’t you think? That or it’s a poorly timed rut…”

“But I thought you weren’t due for one until June- Ugh, fine, honestly never mind… I forgot about all your alpha-y necessities. Just don’t leave your rubbish in the car.”

She waved her hand dismissively and turned away, too busy hiding her reddening cheeks at the salacious thought of him mid-rut, struggling with his arousal; she wished she could say it was the first time she’d thought about him like that since they’d reconciled (though their occurrence had significantly increased in the last week, along with a few enjoyable, if graphic dreams).

“I solemnly swear to vanish it the second I’m done, how’s that?”

He held a hand over his heart, making eye contact with her as dramatically as he could (typical).

She startled but quickly recovered with an exasperated eye roll, mumbling under her breath about ‘sunset being too late for lunch and too early for dinner’ as she unwrapped her food.

“Sooo, how do you like it? It’s amazing, isn’t it? Didn’t I tell you?!”

Unfortunately, her pride and manners deserted her mid-bite and she was unable to prevent herself immediately admitting he was right about it being the best spot in muggle London with her mouth full. (What was wrong with her?)

It was, however, easier to privately concede she had made a fuss for the benefit of hearing him laugh about her reluctance. Other than arguing it was the only other thing she enjoyed goading him into and it was much more pleasant; unfortunately, on this occasion, it was also short-lived.

“Hey, hey! Isn’t that Drusus Agrippa?!”

She thwacked his arm excitedly, watching their suspect slip inside the building they’d been watching for the last two hours.

“Seriously, he couldn’t wait until I finished eating?”

“Come on, we have to follow him!”

“NO!-”

His arm flew across her body, holding her firmly in her seat before she’d even had a chance to crack the door. She desperately fought the urge to shiver at the contact.

“-Don’t you see? This could be so much bigger than just the Agrippa’s; we know there’s been talk of an international, pureblood syndicate trying to form up and find new leadership in the wake of Voldemort’s defeat, trust me when I say, most aristocrats take ages to organise anything amongst themselves… And I should know, personal experience and all that; If _he’s_ here in London, there’s no way it’s to waste time.

Of course, his hunch just had to be completely right.

In the space of twenty minutes, five representatives, all alphas, from prominent (mostly royal and at least noble), foreign, pureblood families arrived at what Hermione and Draco playfully termed ‘The Fools Gathering’.

Louis Valois and the long hunted Rabastan Lestrange arrived, they assumed, to speak for the French nobility.

They were soon followed by Carlos and Otto from the Spanish and German Hapsburg lines respectively (despite all the inbreeding, the magical sides of the family managed to survive).

And finally, Vasilisa Rurikid (who said the family line had to die out with the men?), the queen of the Russian Magical Sisterhood, the wizarding equivalent of the Bratva.

To say they were excited about such a big break in their case would be a gross understatement. Running surveillance, there was little they could do but bide their time, small talk and watch the sun go down while they built their case.

“You know, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before.”

“When?”

Draco set down his binoculars on the dash and turned to face her.

“I was only kidding about the rut thing; I’ve never even missed a suppressant, but I saw you blushing before, and I know it must be a sore spot.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you ever teasing me about not presenting.”

He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously

“I know. It just felt like a line I couldn’t cross considering I was in the same boat.”

“You were?!”

“Yeah, I don’t really talk about it. I got the fever about a year after the war ended, which was extremely late by almost everyone’s standards except yours. No offence.”

“None taken. But I was sure a rumour went ‘round that you presented in fourth year?”

“I lied. I had a decent growth spurt, but no fever; my father told me to use that to my advantage, so, I claimed I had it between terms and never corrected people on the date after it actually happened.”

“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I never checked the maths.”

“Fortunately, most people haven’t-” he replied wryly “-The only people that know it’s today, aside from you and my parents are the Greengrass sisters and that was more necessity than anything else; our families had a betrothal agreement, I needed to void the contract before I turned seventeen, so I had to tell them the truth about everything… It did not go down well.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Still, it makes so much sense, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner! I completely missed all the precursors, it was so obvious and I just chalked it up to your general Draconess; Then again, you aren’t like most alphas I know...”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, I try hard not to be.”

“Why is that? If you don’t mind me asking?”

He sighed deeply, the information he had locked away resisting its own release.

“I’m afraid of losing control. Being an alpha, it’s the worst designation I could have ended up with considering my past; I do what I can to seem less threatening.”

Hermione settled lower into her seat, pondering the implications of his admission relative to their undefined relationship.

It was a well-known fact that alphas, in general, should be treated with care, and leading up to their rut, gilded gloves were practically a requirement (even with the potion); no provocation, no stress, nothing that could upset the fragile balance of temperament, fortified magic, increased hormones and suppressants.

Working with her was most definitely the antithesis of that. She was stubborn, frustrating, bossy and swotty… All in all, her behaviour in the past week alone, paired with her inobservance proved beyond a doubt; she had a death wish.

Merlin! on Monday, she had vehemently forced a heated argument about his opinions regarding their main suspect in a string of B and E’s (turned out she was right about the mother being involved).

Tuesday, she had placed an airhorn charm on his chair as a prank. Now that she thought about it an hour of ranting was understandable considering his delicate state.

Wednesday had actually gone smoothly, but she had worn a rather figure-hugging dress to work that day; Ginny once proclaimed it worthy of ‘TKO’ status, therefore she knew for a fact Draco had understated when he said she looked ‘distracting’; regardless it still sparked a pleasant twinge of something unknown deep in her chest.

A spark her body clearly recalled a day and a half later; it flickered back into existence and quickly ignited, spreading through her limbs until suddenly she was uncomfortably warm beside him.

What on earth?

She resisted the burning itch licking her skin and ignored the intensifying need to escape the confines of the car in favour of blissful, cool night air.

Fortunately, fate was on her side. Seconds later, Agrippa exited the way he came, and Draco was out of the car like a shot, barreling toward him at breakneck speed leaving Hermione to follow.

She immediately secured the building from the outside, forcing the floo escape closed with an expert flick of her wand before warding the remaining ‘fools’ inside and casting an anti-apparition charm.

Satisfied with her handiwork she made her way over to Draco, wand at the ready should his scuffle with Drusus turn south.

A moment later Draco had him petrified… Unfortunately, Agrippa had wrapped himself around her partner, leaving Draco in a rather comical position, tangled with his prisoner.

“A little help would be nice?”

“Sure, but I’m taking a photo first, so I’ll always have this.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an-“

“-You sure you want to finish that sentence, Draco? I could just leave you here until backup arrives?”

“You wouldn’t?!”

“Are you absolutely, one hundred per cent certain?”

“Yes! Now come over here and help get him off me!”

He simply knew her too well to be fooled.

With a gentle wave of her wand, she levitated both of them, prying the two men apart before setting them back down separately with a satisfied smile.

“Nice work, Partner.”

He grinned up at her, prompting Hermione to offer him a hand. He immediately accepted it, only to recoil a moment later with a hiss before jumping to his feet and making a fuss.

“Sweet Merlin! You’re burning up Hermione! Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t feel anyth-”

He gently held the back of one large hand to her forehead, effectively silencing her as she revelled in the relief its cool, contrast provided.

Oh dear. Perhaps he was right.

His other hand rose gracefully to cup her jaw with tenderness and concern, causing much the same reaction, however, it only made the rest of her worse.

“The interrogation team will be here soon; the second they arrive I’m making sure you go home and rest.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, steering her back toward the car.

“But I feel-“

“Hermione, if you say ‘fine’ I think I’ll literally lose my mind… Wait…”

He stopped abruptly, holding her at arm’s length to scrutinise her for a beat before leaning in, burying his nose in the juncture of her neck and shoulder and inhaling deeply.

Her knees buckled

Something was definitely wrong with her; she could hardly think straight.

“This can’t be a coincidence.” He groaned to himself.

“Hmm? What can’t?” she replied dreamily as he guided her to sit in the passenger seat.

“I’ll explain once I get you home.”


	3. Constellations and Cosmic Jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phew, just managed to get this up on time- 
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me :) 
> 
> NOW... LET THERE BE SMUT :D

Draco closed the door and turned on his heel the moment Hermione was settled, walking away from his partner as fast as he humanly could; he busied himself needlessly checking her wards until finally, the interrogation team arrived, allowing him a few blessed moments to collect himself and his thoughts.

Running a hand down his face with a sigh, he peered into the inky depths of the sky, finding the points of light that shaped his namesake constellation by instinct; silently observing the intermittent streaks of light originating from within make their way across the sky in less time than it took to blink.

He was almost certain fate was playing a sick, cosmic joke on him. Had he paid just a little more attention or made fewer excuses, perhaps he would have realised all the signs were pointing to a fledgeling omega coming into her own.

Some detective he was… The subtle change in her scent foolishly chalked up to an alluring new perfume; her recent surly attitude easily explained away by the stress of their latest case; even her slightly increased obedience was simply written off as a result of Robards’ harsh dressing down for insubordination after she put herself in the line of fire to save his life: When in actual fact his partner was about to experience a lifechanging, if belated revelation.

Watching on absentmindedly as the team cleared the building, He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before moving on to consider the next issue.

Her catalyst was the same as his own, right down to the date and time.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was meant to, or if it even had to mean anything, but Merlin help him, he wanted it to.

In a matter of months, she had captured more than just his attention; she had his damaged heart in her hands without even knowing. Regardless of the fact she selflessly took a curse meant for him, he had often wondered about what it would be like to have more than just her friendship; they had an overwhelming amount of things in common, could talk for hours on a myriad of subjects and had the same, dorky, sarcastic sense of humour…

But that didn’t automatically define them as more than partners. No matter how much he wanted it to… Then he held her, felt her body tremble in his grasp and all was lost.

It felt like falling off his broom; his stomach dropped, his breath shortened, and every cell vibrated with electricity as he fell for her.

He glanced toward her car, anxiety pounding on his ribs with every quickened heartbeat. How was he supposed to explain everything that was going on?

Figuring there was no time like the present, he picked himself up and made his way over to report in and clock them off for the night.

After a brief, awkward conversation with Weasley, he had to resist the urge to run back to the car; sliding into the driver’s seat so quickly he bruised his elbow on the steering wheel.

With a little magic to help clear the way, they arrived at her house in record time and he had to admit she was an excellent instructor (a story in itself), she hadn’t stirred once on the drive over.

Closing the door as quietly as he could, he calmly walked around and gently extracted her from the car before scooping her up and carrying her inside, all the while thanking his lucky stars he was a wizard, capable of wandless magic and didn’t have to go hunting for a spare key.

Her house, much like his own was naturally immaculate. Minimalist but cosy and not a single trip hazard in sight with the exception of Crookshanks (who he most certainly did not want to wake).

Finding her room was simple enough and he did his best to make her comfortable after he set her down; tucking her in with a wistful smile at the sight of her unruly hair spread across her pillow.

His heart clenched. She was bloody adorable… He bent to press a clandestine kiss to her brow while he had the chance and-

Oh fuck…

The tiniest inhale left him reeling. Her scent was intoxicating, and he knew instantly he was doomed.

Hermione’s body was dealing her another impossible, rare blow; she was going into heat.

He backed away as quickly as he dared and left the door ajar, flicking on lights as he made his way back to the kitchen, intent on preparing a few essentials for her inevitable awakening and thanking his lucky stars he’d taken a stronger dose of suppressants.

Two hours of 'debating whether to leave or not' later, he was still there, against his better judgement; clearly he was a sucker for punishment. He found himself in her kitchen, filling as many water bottles as he could find, packing them haphazardly in the fridge before raiding her pantry in search of snacks, which he piled on her dining table.

Pondering what to do next, he surveyed his haul, wondering if it would do; only to immediately shut down his train of thought for being much too alpha-y.

He was already having enough trouble resisting his wailing instincts ordering him to march right back to her room and…

NO!

He would not be doing that, he was there to look after her, make sure she stayed hydrated and didn’t starve while the fever wracked her body; because taking her to St. Mungos would be nothing short of a media field day.

“Draco?”

His alpha instincts went from wailing to flat out screaming in denied, frustrated agony.

Of all the nights to present and start her first heat, it had to be when he was at his most vulnerable. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run and hide, lock himself in her broom cupboard or die because if he was honest with himself, suppressants would never truly quell how constantly and deeply he wanted her.

Before he knew it, he was holding his breath and clinging to her doorframe with a grip he was certain would leave impressions in the wood, waiting for her to say something… Anything.

Merlin, it was pure torture.

“Please, I need you to help me… Alpha…”

As much as he wished he needed to sarcastically reply ‘in what way?’, he knew exactly what she meant.

It took everything he had to let go of his anchor and step closer. His hands shook with the effort of restraint as he checked her temperature again… Then suddenly, his mind surrendered, resolving to do what his omega asked him to, miraculously restoring the balance between his instincts and self-control.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know, I don’t even know what’s happening, I just need… I n-” her breath hitched, and she turned to sob into the covers.

“Shhh, you’re okay Hermione-” he gently stroked her hair, hoping to comfort her “-You’ve finally got your fever… Well, not just your fever, you’re going into heat too; but I, um-“

She sprang upright, staring him down with pure, intense annoyance written across her features, which was more than a little unexpected.

“I’m in heat!!! Merlin, Draco, now is not the time to be awkward. How do you even know?!”

“Uhh, I can kind of…”

“Fucking hell, Spit it out!”

“I can smell it… I mean you… Your pheromones, they’re so strong. But I won’t… I can’t help you with any of _that_.”

“With any of what?”

“Christ Hermione…” he groaned into his hands, fighting his frustration.

“You’re an alpha, aren’t you specifically designed to help me with this exact issue?”

“Yes, but _you_ don’t want me and I’m certainly not going to take advantage of you when you’re not in your right mind!”

“Not in _my_ right mind! I’m not the one that just automatically assumed I wouldn’t want to fuck you during my first heat.”

Well, that was one way to put an end to an argument. He had to hand it to her, breaking his brain was a very efficient tactic (sex would end up being an even better one).

“You… I didn’t… Okay, maybe I did assume… But you actually want to…? With me?”

“Merlin, Draco I think it’s obvious I really, really want to; I’ve wanted to for a while; witches honour.”

Was it possible to pass out from a serotonin overload? It definitely felt like it. His heart was beating a mile a minute and he dropped to his knees, needing to bring himself close enough to kiss her.

Her skin was burning compared to his, but her lips, they were perfect.

Her delicate hands wound their way into his hair, tugging gently until he figured out that she wanted him up on the bed with her.

“More...”

He forgot everything as he crawled into her embrace; nothing would ever be as important anyway and excuses were just cowardice if he was honest; this was Hermione, it wasn't meaningless, it wasn't hurried... it was perfect. His inner alpha purred, acknowledging the rightness being in her arms brought.

She enveloped him, body and soul and while he wasn’t prepared to verbally admit how much he loved her, he could allow himself to express it physically.

It became a fight for closeness rather than dominance as they explored each other with lips, teeth and tongues, shedding their clothes along the way in a bid to succeed, rather than win… To win would mean someone had to lose and it went unsaid everything from that point on would be wonderfully mutual.

As his confidence grew, her patience withered until finally, they reached fever pitch.

“Please, touch me.”

He wasn’t about to disobey.

He let her guide his hand down her body, taking the time to savour the feel of her warm silky skin under his fingers until…

His ability to stay conscious was being tested more than it ever had. She was soaked, her excessive wetness only just beginning to pool on the sheets, but certainly indicating how much more would follow under his ministrations.

It would be a shame if she only came on his fingers.

Fortunately, he was more than able to remedy that. Kissing his way down her lithe body, encouraged by her breathy sighs, he quickly set about finding a pattern that would make her see stars.

She writhed in his grasp, responding beautifully to his attentions until she crested and fell unexpectedly, pulsing and shuddering until he rose from between her legs with the excessive, glistening evidence of her orgasm coating his face.

She tasted more divine than he ever could have imagined.

Knowing she was breathless and unable to move, he didn’t wait for her to beckon him; besides, he couldn’t resist the urge to find new ways to make her smile with such innate satisfaction.

Spread out under him, bathed in starlight, she looked like a goddess and he was glad to continue showing his dedication to worship.

That was until she blessed him with her touch.

For a moment he was simply shocked, his mind unable to process the sensation of her soft hands trailing the length of his cock, over his knot… Merlin, there was nothing that could compare to how sublime it felt. Then she did it again and he knew all hope of cognizance was lost.

He was as helpless as her, lost in pleasure as she continued to stroke him; his suppressants the only thing standing between his sanity and rut.

He honestly couldn’t even manage to be embarrassed about the pitiful whine that escaped when she gently squeezed his knot; His entire body shuddered in response unable to handle the increasingly wonderful sensation as it swelled incrementally.

“Fuck, you’re perfect… So, so good, omega.”

Evidently that was her inner omega’s breaking point. In a show of strength (and excellent grappling technique), she flipped him and pinned him to her mattress, straddling his hips and sinking down on his cock before he could draw another breath.

He hadn’t known what to expect, having only slept with one or two betas in his late teens; he’d been told that omegas were special, that for an alpha nothing would ever feel as good, but the second he was completely inside her, he understood why Blaise had struggled to explain it.

It was transcendent… Something sacred… It was completion and home... Christ, why did it feel like she’d been made to take him?

She moaned and his soul returned to his body, unwilling to miss committing a single moment to memory. His alpha had never felt so sated, watching his omega take her pleasure from him.

There was little need for words, no need for complete sentences; not that either of them would have been able to construct one. Their bodies, controlled by their instincts moved in sync, his alpha supporting her omega, providing for her in the most primal, base way. When she first faltered, he supported her, when she tired, he took control, pacing himself to keep them climbing toward their peak in unison.

Working together, he met her fervour with an intensity he hadn’t thought himself capable of; with every thrust, bite, kiss and scratch they uncovered the underlying truth. Not that either of them could understand it, that would have to come later, in the quiet moments after her omega was finally satisfied.

Until then they would revel in the now, particularly in the sweet, languid moment before they both reached their peak.

Knowing what to look for helped Draco push her over the edge, having witnessed her come once already he was able to time his praise, whispering words of encouragement to maximum effect until, finally, she came. Her cunt pulsed, triggering his own orgasm, locking their bodies together as his knot swelled inside her, serving its purpose.

Slick with sweat, mussed and peppered with hickeys, Hermione had to admit Draco had never looked better.

She had done that.

Fucked him within an inch of his life, to be frank.

Pride rippled through her and she clenched around him, enjoying the feeling of being filled so perfectly.

It amazed her how content she felt with his knot inside her, his chest pressed tightly against her own as they fought for air together, his hands tangled in her hair as he held her like the most precious thing in the world.

It was a moment she never thought she would have.

Her eyes began to brim with tears.

It was a moment she would only ever strive to repeat with him.

In the eye of the storm, with her omega well and truly satisfied, Hermione was able to admit to herself that presenting during the same magical event as her alpha (her omega loved the sound of that) was more than a coincidence.

It was kismet… It had to be.

Nothing else could possibly explain it, and perhaps it wasn’t quite love yet, but damn it was certainly close… It was what she knew she wanted, to the exclusion of all else.

What a twist; Draco Malfoy was everything she had ever wished for and always needed.

She began to cry in earnest, her tears slipping down the smooth, pale skin of his back until he coaxed her into his view, looking guilty and unsure.

Oh no.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?! Oh god, I shouldn’t hav-”

He looked devastated and her omega immediately resurfaced with a vengeance, begging her to fix it NOW.

“Draco, stop.” She cupped his face tenderly in her hands.

“It’s alright, I’m fine. I just got a little overwhelmed.”

“Oh. Thank Merlin.”

She smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, then his lips, before taking advantage of the fact they were still joined and rocking her hips.

“Cut me some slack, its lot to take in.”

He offered a tentative half-smile at her tease and she simply couldn’t help herself, she had to know how it tasted, illogical as it sounded, she just knew his relief would be sweet; and her inner omega certainly agreed.

Unable to do much else, she took the time to finally savour having him naked and pliant in her bed, gently conveying her reassurance long after he understood, until the desperation of her heat overtook once more, and they descended into a heady haze of lust, their bodies hardly separate or discernible until the stars outside faded from view and dawn filtered in.

When Hermione finally rose mid-morning, she expected to be alone; a quick glance to her left confirmed just how incorrect that assumption was, and she couldn’t help but feel glad. He looked like he belonged there, curled up under her blankets, his ravaged blond hair illuminated by the sunlight sneaking through a crack in her curtains… He looked angelic despite the clear exhaustion she had caused, and her heart fluttered.

With her heat gradually making its presence known she decided her own appearance might need a little attention, if he was looking slightly ruffled then she definitely needed a fixer-upper. Unfortunately, that was the wrong choice; she was about halfway through washing her hair when her symptoms returned full force.

Doubled over in her bathtub, with two fingers buried deep in her cunt; a futile attempt at soothing the burning ache for something more substantial, she called out for him, praying that she hadn’t locked the door in her hubris. She just knew she’d need to replace it if she had.

When he didn’t come, her inner omega preened… She had pleased her alpha, tired him out that much… It was a short-lived reprieve.

Seconds later she was trying not to cry… Again; her skin aflame and her fingers doing nothing to alleviate the desperate, empty feeling, she bit her lip in a bid to overcome her state by sheer will.

She called again, her shout echoing off the tile soon followed by a wretched, needy whimper as she tried to come.

It was completely futile, her fingers were useless, too slender, too short- She simply couldn’t do it without his help.

Had she been able to form a coherent thought, she would have quipped about finally understanding why omegas typically didn't go through heats alone, perhaps even made a joke about how she would gladly go back to having no designation if it meant escaping this torture and regaining her independence; but in all honesty, the second he burst through the bathroom door without a stitch of clothing on him, frantic and concerned she knew she wouldn’t give up the pure, electrifying elation of seeing him like that.

The second his fingers replaced hers, reaching that spot inside her that made her hair stand on end, she almost fainted; her senses unable to cope after trying to reach orgasm for so long.

She could hardly bring herself to care that it was uncomfortable, fucking in her clawfoot tub with the shower still running above them; it amazed her that he hadn’t protested. Then again, it was safe to assume he was very distracted.

Already halfway to an epic orgasm after he arrived, she almost felt guilty coming so quickly, until her clever little ‘omega voice’ provided a solution to her oversensitivity issue and her alpha’s lack of completion.

It was even more unpleasant kneeling in the tub, but the sounds coming from above as she swirled her tongue over the flushed tip of his cock made it all incredibly worth it. Draco looked down at her with unbridled awe in his eyes as she worked; it made her feel so very honoured and dare she say, loved to hear him thank her so prettily each time she discovered a new way to make him twitch or moan into his fist.

The night before she’d hardly had the chance to watch him fall apart, seeing him buckle as his release crept up on him was nothing short of spectacular. He stumbled slightly, leaning against the wall for support as he came down her throat, her hand massaging his inflated knot to draw his pleasure out as long as possible; when she finally released him, he sank to his knees, peppering kisses across her cheeks while she giggled uncontrollably, until he was satisfied he had expressed his gratitude.

Once Draco managed to recover, he quickly helped her out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her with a gracious, radiant smile.

“Well, that was a great way to kill two birds with one stone.”

“Mmh, do you think we could find a way to make breakfast that efficient?”

“I don’t know, I’ll see what I can do.”

His solution was beautiful in its simplicity, he skipped the food and made a meal of her instead; while she enjoyed the feel of her cool, stone benchtop against her unnaturally warm skin.

As he carried her back to bed, she decided it was about time she clarified something, before she forgot and while she still had a little more presence of mind.

“Draco?”

She nuzzled against his shoulder, enjoying the scent of apples, clove and pine that constantly lingered around him.

“Hmm?”

“I think I want you to stay.”

He came to an abrupt halt outside her room.

“For the night?”

He gently pushed the door open, his arms tense around her body.

“No.”

He set her down on her side of the mattress, his expression schooled and unreadable as he crossed back to his side.

“Oh… Until your heat is finished then?”

He clambered in beside her, pulling her closer until her lips were a hair’s breadth away from his.

“No. I’d like you to stay much, much longer than that.”

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to drop me a kudos or leave a comment. 
> 
> It genuinely makes my heart so full reading them and I absolutely adore replying and chatting with you lovely people 
> 
> Also please do yourself a favour and check out the other amazing works in this fest because holy crap the level of talent here is unbelievable!


End file.
